Tomorrow
by Ari 347
Summary: "Tomorrow" is such a strong word. It holds so much meaning. Or so Draco thinks. Blaise doesn't quite buy into it. Written for QLFC 2016, Round 1.
Team: Kenmare Kestrels
Position: Chaser 1  
Prompt: Write about a Death Eater at home  
Optional prompts: inappropriate(6), tomorrow(13), "If you don't eat your vegetables, you can't have any pudding."(7)  
Word Count: 1,234

Beta'd by Lucy Kent. Thanks a ton!

* * *

Blaise watched as Draco paced the flat like a caged animal. "Ruining the carpet really isn't the answer to your problems." He paused. "I mean it. I'm not paying for a new one."

"She is so aggravating!" Draco crashed down on the couch, making Blaise wince. That couch was over a thousand of his hard-earned galleons. Or, well, one of his stepfathers' hard-earned galleons. As a former Death Eater, it was nearly impossible for him to get a job. Same for the majority of the other former Slytherins.

He shook his head to clear it and looked at his flatmate. "I'm sure she is. Which girl is this, exactly? You've been out with so many of them it's hard to say which one – "

"Will you shut up?" The blonde ran his fingers through his already-mussed hair. "It's none of your business. Go…do something. Something boring. Something far away from me."

"But it's raining outside," Blaise whined. "And I can't Apparate out because of the wards _you_ insisted we put up."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I don't want women to leave without my knowledge. Is that really so bad?"

"Your father would be embarrassed by how sentimental you're getting. Who cares if a girl leaves when you're finished? It's called a one night stand, not a 24 hour stand." Blaise sat down on the couch beside Draco. "And it's still a stupid reason to put up the wards. Your supposed 'benefits' do not outweigh the costs."

"I'm not taking it down. When you start paying rent you can have a say."

Right. Blaise had been crashing here for the past few months, supposedly looking for an apartment. In reality, though, it was much more fun to have a roommate. Even a certifiably insane one like Draco. "Fine. Are you making dinner or shall I?" he asked.

"I'll do it. My life may not be perfect but there's always a chance tomorrow will be better. If I die of food poisoning I'll never have that chance." Draco set an emerald throw pillow straight and stood up.

"Well aren't we in an optimistic mood all of the sudden," Blaise remarked, following the blonde into the kitchen. "What's got you so happy?"

"I remembered that I have to go to the Ministry tomorrow for that parole stuff. She might be there." He went over to the fridge, a remnant from the year they weren't allowed to use magic, and began to pull out ingredients. "Tomorrow will be great. I hope."

"And again, your father would be disappointed with you. But I definitely approve." Throwing Draco a sly grin, Blaise spun on the stool.

"I don't care what he thinks. My father is the main reason I'm in this mess in the first place. His opinion matters less to me than Potter's does." His knife hit the carrots with a louder thud than necessary. "He can rot in the Manor for all I care."

"Except for the fact that you take his money. That you do care about." The Italian sat down on a stool at the island, his arms resting on the counter.

"Only because I don't have a choice!" the blonde snapped. "If I could get a job – "

"What about a Muggle job?"

Draco's jaw dropped. "You must be mad. Aside from the fact that I can't stand them, what Muggle skills do I have? I highly doubt that stellar grades in Potions will help."

"You can start a business. You've grown up knowing that stuff from your father. Yes, I know, you don't want to admit he helped you at all," Blaise quickly added, seeing Draco's face. "Try it."

"Maybe tomorrow," he said dismissively.

"You'll be doing a lot tomorrow, I imagine."

"Tomorrow has infinite possibilities. Who knows what can happen?" Draco held out a hand. "Pass me the tomatoes."

"Why do you need these? Vegetables are vile."

"Because I like them. If you don't eat your vegetables, you can't have any pudding." He washed and chopped the tomatoes before tossing them into the pot. "These will be tomato sauce for my lasagna. You'll have to eat the steamed vegetables, though."

Blaise huffed. "I still think vegetables are bad for you. Stepdad number five – or six? I can't remember. Anyway, one of them died after eating salad."

"That was because your mother poisoned him. My case still stands. No vegetables, no pudding. That's final."

"You're mean." He pouted and reached for a bar of Honeydukes chocolate that had been left on the counter. Draco slapped his hand away. "Oi!"

"I told you, no sweets before dinner."

Blaise scowled. "I am not a child. And you're not my nanny elf or my mother."

"Someone has to take care of you if you won't do it." Draco rolled his eyes at his friend's raised eyebrow. "Come on. You haven't had a real date in months and you've been in a downward spiral ever since."

"Hey! When did this conversation turn to me? You're the messed up one." He spun the stool around to follow Draco's path through the kitchen, thinking. "This is so odd."

"That I'm thinking about someone else? I thought that too, at first. But I don't think it's such a big deal." The blonde turned up the flame on the stove and went to put up the pasta. "You should talk to Healer Silver, he's good."

"The MindHealer you spoke to after the war? Yeah, no thanks." Blaise stretched his arms to the ceiling. "I can't discuss _everything_ with him."

"Why not? Anything…inappropriate?"

The Italian grinned, memories flitting through his head. "Yeah, maybe. Y'know. Stuff. Like – "

"No! Not interested! Thank you." Draco's face turned bright red and he turned back to his cooking. "If living with you has taught me anything, it's that I never want to know what you're thinking. Ever. I'm liable to be scarred for life."

"Ah well. It would've been a great story. 'Inappropriate', as you say, but awesome." Blaise let out a happy sigh. "Especially since you don't have any – "

"That is not true! I've had plenty of good experiences. Mine just aren't always paid for."

Blaise clutched his heart. "I am hurt. Not _all_ my girls are paid for."

"Just most of them." Draco laughed and ducked the blow his roommate aimed at his head. "I'm going to bake this in the oven instead of spells. It tastes better this way."

"Okay. Want to play some chess?"

"Why not."

* * *

They sat together later that night, each nursing a beer. "Maybe I should get into your whole tomorrow thing," Blaise mused, breaking the silence.

"What do you mean? Inappropriate stories not enough for you?"

"I'm being serious here, Drake." He set his bottle on the table with a clank. "Your whole 'tomorrow will be better' look on things doesn't seem so bad. Maybe it's time to settle down, get my own place, find a real girl…"

"Who are you and what did you do with my Blaise?" Draco stood up and pressed the back of his hand to Blaise's forehead. "I want my playboy Blaise back. He's more interesting."

"You've got your drunk, solemn Blaise now. Enjoy him. Tomorrow morning I'll probably be my playboy self." He sighed and drained his beer. "Anyway, I'm going to bed."

"Already?"

"Yeah." Blaise stood up and started for his room. "Good night. See you tomorrow."

"Yeah. Tomorrow."


End file.
